


Fan Fiction

by Ninni



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A dash of meta, Dean has discovered fanfiction, FirstTime!Wincest, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Wincest - Freeform, humour!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 10:31:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11872482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninni/pseuds/Ninni
Summary: Dean has a new hobby.





	Fan Fiction

“Do you know what really bothers me about this fanfiction thing?” Dean asked, matter-of-factly, his eyes narrowing at the computer screen. 

Sam threw him an exasperated stare from across the table. “I have a sneaking suspicion that you will tell me even if I beg you not to,” he said with a worn-down sort of dread in his voice. “Which I really do, by the way. Beg you not to.”

Sam had many times seriously considered letting Castiel drop Sam off in some sort of alternate universe where Dean had never discovered that godawful website, but Castiel had insisted that it might “interfere with the destiny of the grand creation” or some other nonsense.

Sam had told him sourly that he felt that Dean’s new hobby very much interfered with his mental stability, but by then Castiel had conveniently zapped himself away for some angel business - and Sam had been left at the mercy of his brother who, slowly but surely, was descending into the madness of the fanfiction realm. 

Dean promptly ignored Sam’s request. “These people seem to have no idea how big America is,” he said, sounding butthurt, making as sweeping gesture with his arm, as if letting the size of their bunker library represent the sheer size of the nation. “They seem to think a drive from Michigan to Vegas takes half a day. It’s ridiculous.” 

“You’re reading stories where we have an incestuous relationship and where you sometimes make me wear skirts,” Sam told him in dismay, “But that’s what really bothers you?”

Dean eyed Sam coolly, taking a sip from his beer. “Continuity errors,” he said, as if dropping a baseball term. “They can really ruin the flow of a good story.” 

“Skirts,” Sam repeated, weakly. “Flow of a good story.”

“You know,” Dean said with a pinch of annoyance, “You are much more openminded in these fics than you are in real life, too. That’s another complaint. You’re way too OOC. Not at all willing to try new stuff.” 

“OOC?” Sam asked helplessly, before he had the sense to stop himself from asking more questions.

“Out of character,” Dean told him, a twinge of snobbishness in his voice. “Really, Sam.”

Sam wondered if dropping Dean’s laptop into another dimension would interfere with the destiny of the grand creation, too. 

He made a mental note to ask Castiel. 

The look on Dean’s face suddenly shifted from loftily patronizing to upsettingly scheming, and Sam shifted a little in his chair. He felt very entitled to the small sense of terror in his gut, because he was, in fact, stuck inside a bunker with a mad person. 

“I know I will almost certainly regret asking,” Sam said, almost around a grimace, “But what are you thinking about?”

Dean tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the beer bottle, an unnerving little smile stretching over his face. “Maybe we should try,” he said, the smug little smile still in place. “See what all the fuss is about.” 

Sam’s jaw dropped as Dean walked across the table and pulled Sam up to his feet. 

“Just a kiss,” Dean said as though he’d just suggested they order a pizza. “What harm could it do?” 

Sam stared down into Dean’s face, and thought: That’s it, he lost it, he’s gone mad. He could handle hell, but AO3 did him in once and for all. 

Dean looked a little insulted, and Sam realized he’d said it out loud. “I’m not mad,” Dean huffed. “I’m just a little curious.” 

Sam swallowed as Dean’s fingers curled around his wrist. “I’m really gonna stick with mad on this one,” he squeaked, as Dean’s other hand   
came up to rest on his hip, and ohgod, when did Dean get that Sodom&Gomorrah look in his eyes? 

“We try this once, and I promise to never read that stuff ever again.” 

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Never ever?” 

Dean chewed his bottom lip. “Well,” he offered thoughtfully, “I can promise to never mention them to you again.” 

Sam thought that Dean’s madness might be contagious, because he just said, a little desperately: “Good enough for me,” and then he simply pulled Dean’s face towards his with his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, and kissed him. 

It was nothing special, at first. Not even disgusting or strange, it was just their mouths pressed together, but then Dean relaxed against him and sighed into Sam’s mouth, letting his tongue gently sweep along Sam’s bottom lip and it sent an unexpectant shiver down Sam’s spine, and he felt himself tremble a little as his mouth opened to kiss Dean back properly. 

Dean made little noises as Sam’s fingernails dragged gently over the skin of his nape, and Sam was entirely in shock because screw Dean, why did he have to be so infuriatingly right about everything, even this? This was fantastic, and Sam shamefully realized that he never wanted to let go. 

Yes, Dean’s madness was obviously contagious but Sam found that he didn’t care one bit because Dean’s eyelashes tickled Sam’s cheeks and Dean’s mouth was warm and smiling under his, and Sam’s heart skipped a beat when his playful nibble on Dean’s bottom lip made him chuckle softly. 

When they broke apart for air, Sam looked a little dazedly down into Dean’s face. He was sure that if this had been a fanfiction, he would marvel at Dean’s perfectly chiseled features or dark eyelashes. 

Same tried very hard for a good two seconds not to notice these things before he resolutely abandoned that attempt and allowed himself to take in Dean’s freckled, smugly satisfied face. “Now I think I know what all the fuss is about,” Dean murmured, arms tangled around Sam’s neck. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “The terms still stand,” he said sternly, but he was sure his goofy grin ruined the act. “You can never talk to me about fanfiction, ever, again.” 

Dean licked his lips, and asked a little wickedly: “Am I allowed to try out the things I learn from them with you?” 

Sam looked at him, a little warily. “Just… Please, no skirts?”

Dean laughed softly before he simply kissed him again. 

They didn’t notice the angel in the corner, who made the satisfying observation that the destiny of the grand creation no longer was at risk to be interfered with.


End file.
